


"A Pound of Clergy"

by farad



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: 3K Round-up Challenge, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7457329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for H/C Bingo 2016, the prompt "Allergic Reaction" (Row 1, Column 2); set after "Obsession", JD and Nettie talk about things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"A Pound of Clergy"

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Jojo for the beta; all mistakes my own.

“ _An ounce of mother is worth a pound of clergy.”_ ~Spanish Proverb

 

 

“JD,” Nettie said as the young man stepped through the door into her kitchen.

 

“Mrs. Wells,” he said, nodding. He was holding his hat in his hand and his eyes were wide, as they always seemed to be around her.

 

“Casey's finishing up the afternoon chores.” She turned back to the stove, turning the pieces of chicken in the simmering gravy.

 

“Thank you, ma'am,” he stammered, “and thank you for having me to dinner.”

 

She glanced at him over her shoulder, then, covering the pan of meat with a heavy lid, she put down her fork and turned back to him. “You look tired. How's Chris?”

 

The young man swallowed and his eyes dropped to the floor. That gave her the answer before his words did. “He's holding his own, at least that's what Nathan says. But he's still so weak, and he sleeps almost all the time.”

 

Nettie nodded, understanding. “He is healing, JD. That takes time. At least the fever has broken.”

 

He raised a hand, scratching at his neck. “That's what Nathan says, but he still don't look happy. And we haven't seen Vin in days – Ezra thinks he might've left altogether, and I think Buck's starting to think that too -”

 

“Then they don't know Vin Tanner,” Nettie said sharply. “And if you believe that, you don't either. He'll be back. He's doing what he said he'd do – trying to find that woman.” The very thought of it all made her so angry she could spit. But it also made her very tired. It had been a surprise to discover that the wickedness in people could still surprise her. But this woman . . .

 

JD looked up at her and swallowed. There was a red line on his throat where he'd been scratching and she noticed that he was scratching now along his wrists. “You think Vin's coming back?”

 

Nettie drew in a breath, just catching her tongue before it reminded him that that was what she had just said. The look on his face, though, stopped her. It was this, she thought as he she studied him, this innocence, this hope. That was what Casey saw in him.

 

That was what Casey loved in him.

 

And it reminded her, too, of her own husband, sweet Arthur. She still missed him most days, his quiet company, his affection for her and for their family. Though not necessarily for this place. He'd never quite adjusted to life here, to all the work that it took. Not that he didn't do what was needed, he did, but it always seems to astound him that there was always more to do.

 

He'd been like this, too, confused by human nature, confused by the complexities of this life. Confused by her desire to stay her, to settle down and try to live this way.

 

JD, at least, was willing to try. He kept talking about the Rangers and he kept talking about seeing San Francisco. But he kept coming back to Casey. More so now, since the events out at that woman's place, since they'd brought Chris Larabee back in a wagon with all his demons riding along.

 

So she swallowed the words that had come so readily to her tongue and said, “Vin Tanner is a man of his word. If he said he'd be back, he'll be back.”

 

JD blew out a breath, looking away from her. His hand rose once more to his throat and his fingers scratched at it.

 

“JD,” she said, stepping closer, “are you all right?” In the light from the late afternoon sun coming through her windows, it was hard to see clearly, but it seemed that he had a rash along his throat.

 

JD blinked and stepped back, clutching his hat in front of him as if it could protect him. “I'm fine,” he said, though his voice cracked as he said it.

 

Nettie stopped and again had to catch the word that came to her mouth. As she did, though, she caught sight of his wrists, the one he had been scratching – and the other one that he had also apparently been scratching. Like his throat, they, too, had a rash and in the beam of light cutting into the room, the rash was more clear.

 

“You have a rash,”she said flatly, pointing to his wrists. “How do you feel? Do you have a fever?”

 

He jerked his hands back against his chest, as if to hide them under his hat, but then, he looked at them. And frowned. He used one hand to pull at his jacket and then at the cuff of his shirt sleeve. “I do have a rash,” he said, surprised. “I thought it was just because it was such a warm day.”

 

She shook her head, stepping closer to him. He tried once more to back up but he was already at the closed door. She took a little pleasure in knocking his head into it – gently – as she pushed up his chin to look at his throat. “Yep, a pretty big rash.” She put her own wrist against his forehead, feeling for fever, and though it was warm, it wasn't fever warm.

 

She stepped back and said, “You don't seem to have a fever, so you're probably not contagious. Take off your coat and shirt. Let's see how bad it is.” As she turned to walk back toward the stove, she heard him make a small noise, like a gasp. As she reached for a towel to take the lid off the pan of meat, she glanced over her shoulder to see him staring at her as if she'd grown a second head. Managing once more to hold her tongue, she checked the meat pan, stirring the gravy so it wouldn't stick, then, with the lid back on, she slid it to the side so that it wouldn't dry up or scald on direct heat. She reached to the dutch oven on the back of the stove top and checked the biscuits, which were rising, then she stirred the creamed corn as well, setting it further away from the direct fire.

 

She put the towel into her apron pocket and turned back, not at all surprised – though more than a little annoyed – to find that JD had not moved at all. Well, that wasn't quite true. His mouth hung open like he was a gutted fish and his eyes were as big as her biscuit cutter.

 

“You aiming to catch flies?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “I only want to look at your rash, not take advantage of your manly virtue.”

 

“But-but-but – that ain't – Mrs. Well, that ain't decent!”

 

At least he was talking, she thought, shaking her head. “I promise you, young man, I have seen much worse in my years than a scrawny thing like you without your shirt. I need to make sure that it's not any more serious that an allergy.”

 

“An allergy?” he said and though she didn't think it possible, his eyes got even wider. “Like – it could kill me?” He dropped his hat to the floor and held his hands up so that he could stare at both of his wrists.

 

Nettie barely managed not to roll her eyes. “If it were gonna kill you, it'd have done it already. Is that a clean shirt?” she asked, leaning back on her cupboard.

 

JD managed to tear his eyes away from his own flesh and look between his hands at her. “Well, of course it is! You don't think I'd come to dinner in dirty clothes – at least, I hope you don't think that of me.”

 

It was a sign of his respect, and she felt a stir of hope for the young man. He'd learned something along the way. “I thank you for that. But what I was thinking was that whoever washed the shirt may have used a different soap, maybe one with more lye in it that usual. That could lead you to break out into a rash.”

 

JD took a deep breath and his shoulders sagged. “Ezra told me to take it to the Chinese laundry, but I – well, Nathan needed some things for the clinic and I ended up buying a few things from Mrs. Potter, and so I had to wash it myself.” He shook his head.

 

Nettie couldn't fault his heart; those things Nathan needed for the clinic were probably to take care of Chris. They were all pitching in on that, she knew – as were a number of people in the town. As was she.

 

Part of tonight's dinner would be going back to town with JD for Nathan and Chris.

 

“What did you use?” she asked, gesturing for him to step forward. When he did – as much to get away from her as to do as she asked – she opened the door to the front porch and stepped out onto it. Along the railing were a collection of plants and herbs, among them one of the aloe plants that she had learned about during her time in the west.

 

“I used some soap that Mrs. Barton said I could use. She uses it on the bed clothes and the like, and she said it was good for clothes, too.” JD had stepped out behind her, and she felt him watching as she broke off a long section of aloe. Its sap was thick and clear, a good sign.

 

Nettie turned back to him, frowning. “I can't very well put this on your rash if you're still wearing your coat and shirt.”

 

JD swallowed. “Maybe it'd be best if I wait 'til after dinner, and let Nathan do it.”

 

Nettie tilted her head. “So your manly virtue is so important that you'd rather get Nathan – who is still tending Chris night and day, as well as the emergencies in town – to take part of his time to do something that I can do?”

 

JD looked down and swallowed. “No, of course not,” he said, though she knew the thought was new to him. With a sigh, he pulled at his jacket, sliding it off his arms.

 

“Let's go back in the house,” she said, moving past him and through the doorway. She put the aloe stalk on a saucer then moved over to pick up a knife and a spoon. When she returned to the table, she set to work pressing the thick juice out of the stalk. All the while, she talked, noting that JD put his jacket on a peg on the wall, picked up his hat and put it over it, then he unbuttoned his sleeves, rolling them up carefully.

 

“The soap that Mrs. Barton uses most likely has a high concentration of lye in it. I reckon she forgot to tell you to rinse your clothes out at least three times before setting them to dry?” She pressed the flat of the spoon against the aloe stalk and pressed down, then she ran the spoon down the length of the stalk, pushing out as much of the pulpy liquid as she could.

 

“She said to do it a couple of times,” he said, looking at his wrists now that they were clearly exposed. Nettie looked also, not surprised to see the red rash developing into welts in the area under the cuff, where it had had the most contact with the skin. She suspected it was worse on the more tender skin at his throat. “I did – and my ma, she did it the same way, a couple of times. I did it the way they said.”

 

“I reckon the soap Mrs. Barton uses is a lot stronger. She tends to use it more for washing the bed linens and the like and then she soaks them in the rinse for an afternoon.” She used the knife to get the last bits of the resin out of the stalk then she waved to JD. “Come here and let's put this on. It will help with the itching and also with healing the skin.”

 

He looked at her, then, swallowing, he came over to where he was standing. He held out his arms so that she could see his wrists. They did look worse up close, but that was to be expected.

 

At the first touch of the aloe to his skin, he flinched and made a hissing noise.

 

“Cool?” she asked, using her finger tip to rub the aloe resin along the rash. “Or does it hurt?”

 

JD was quiet for a time and she glanced up, wondering if he had heard her. He met her gaze and said, “My ma used to do this for me.” His voice was low and soft, speaking from a memory.

 

She looked back to what she was doing, but when she spoke, she kept her voice pitched low, too. “She died just before you came here, didn't she?” Casey had told Nettie the basic story, during one of those times when she had been trying to convince Nettie that JD was a good man.

 

Not that Nettie actually doubted that – the 'good' part, anyway; it was the 'man' part that made her shake her head in wonder. But JD had stepped up, joining up with the other six men. And she didn't doubt that they were men, though sometimes, she did doubt the issue of their respective 'goodness'.

 

“She did,” he said. “Reckon that's what drove me to get on that train and then on that stage, to spend the money she worked so hard to save for me. Sometimes I think I made the wrong decision.”

 

Nettie turned his hand over, so that she could get to the other side of one wrist. “You angry with Chris?” she asked, dabbing and rubbing, leaving a sheen of aloe over the red welts.

 

“Angry? Why would I be angry? He got shot, and he almost died.”

 

Nettie looked up, trying to catch his eye. When she stopped spreading the aloe, he finally looked up.

 

“He did,” she said quietly but firmly. “He almost died. At the hands of a woman he had once cared about and trusted. He had no idea that she was the one who had destroyed his life, JD.”

 

JD swallowed and looked away. “I know that. I do. But -” He swallowed again and she saw the glimmer in his eyes, the pain. When he spoke, his voice was even more quiet and it caught, just like a child's, with the hurt. “He was ready to stay with her. To leave us. He told us that when we finished this, when we ran off that Handsome Jack and his men, he wasn't coming back. He was going to . . .”

 

Nettie looked back down at his wrists. The first one was finished so she applied the aloe to the other one. “He was going to leave you like your mother did?”

 

It was a question with a lot of meanings. JD was talking about Chris' choice to leave them, a story that she had not yet heard. Granted, she'd heard only a few things about the whole sordid mess, most of that from Mary Travis, though some had come from Josiah and Nathan. She knew she'd have heard the whole thing if she'd had more than five minutes with Vin, but he was off chasing this hellcat of a woman, probably planning to do more damage than was good for him.

 

And truth be told, she was more worried about him than she was about any of the others. Even Chris.

 

For she had her own anger at him, an anger that had been a mess of simmering coals until JD had given her this latest piece of information.

 

“I didn't mean it that way,” JD said. “My ma didn't mean to get sick and die – she fought it long and hard, with everything she had. She didn't want to leave, but she didn't have choice.” He didn't seem to be aware that he turned his wrist over as she continued to apply the thick balm. “And Chris might have died – he might still die, the same way she did. Not of his own choice.” The last was rushed, as if he were in a panic of his own.

 

She didn't say anything, letting him get himself under control. As she finished up with the second wrist, his breathing steadied and he took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it go.

 

Nettie put the saucer on the table, wiping her fingers on her apron as she turned away, back to the stove. As she once more stirred the various pots, making sure everything was doing all right, not scorching, she said, “You know, I lost my husband. He was a good man – a man I loved. A man I loved a lot, truth be told. It's a rare day that goes by that I don't think about him and wish he was still here. That day Guy Royal showed up, trying to run us off this property? I missed the hell out of him. If he'd been alive, Guy Royal would never have gotten the chance. Now, that doesn't mean he was happy about being here – as I've said before, this place didn't agree with him, not nearly as much as it did me. He stayed, because he loved the life we had together more than he loved this place.” She put the top back on the last of the pans, and pulled open the dutch oven to take out the biscuits. As she set them on a pan on the warming side of the stove, she continued, “When he died, I was so angry at him for leaving me that I couldn't cry. It took me almost a year to shed a tear for him. A lot of folk around here will tell you I'm a cold-hearted woman – I suspect many have.”

 

She turned back to look at him, seeing the surprise on his face, but also, as she had expected, the truth: he had heard that, which was part of why he was scared of her.

 

It almost made her laugh. Almost. Instead, she lifted a hand toward him and said, “I can't very well get to your neck with you buttoned up like a preacher on Sunday. I promise not to tell anyone that you opened your shirt for me.”

 

He looked at her, his eyes wide and so young. But at the same time, there was a question there, one that she knew was important. So she waited, letting him find the words.

 

When he spoke, he was still quiet, but there was a timbre in his words that was without age, certainly without his youth and the innocence that seemed to define him. “I know it's wrong to be angry. We should forgive and we should try to understand. Most things in life aren't the will of those who go through them anyway. But . . .”

 

She nodded to him. He wasn't making a move to unbutton his shirt, so she pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. It felt good; she couldn't remember the last time she'd been off her feet. “I've lost a lot of people in my life. I lost my father when he I was young, I lost my best friend just before my wedding, and then my sister. I lost my oldest son and then two of my daughters before they were old enough to marry. Then I lost my daughter and her husband and one of their children – that would be Casey's mother, father, and baby brother. I lost my husband. And I can't tell you the number of friends.”

 

JD looked at her, and she saw a glimmer in his eyes. She thought it might be the first signs of knowledge, or perhaps maturity - but she wasn't ready to trust in that yet. So she went on, hoping that he would understand – if not tonight, then soon. “The one thing I have learned, and I promise you, I have learned it well, is that you never lose anyone with out anger. Anger that they have been taken from you too soon. Anger is a way of protecting yourself from the pain.”

 

She waved to a chair, inviting him to sit as she went on, “But anger clouds your thinking. You start to forget that sometimes, what happens to other people isn't because of you or even about you. There are things outside of your control and outside of your understanding. That doesn't make it hurt any less, but it does make it something you need to consider when you're angry.”

 

He tilted his head, looking a little like a puppy dog. “I know that I ain't got a reason to be angry. Chris had the right to try to make a new life for himself. Hell, he deserves it. I think right now, I might be more angry that that was taken from him.”

 

Nettie smiled, despite herself. He was trying, which was more than she could say for most. “Of course you are. But the thing is, JD, it's not about what's right or what's wrong, it's not about any sort of justice. It's about the way we feel, the things that we, in our heart of hearts, want. That's why it's so hard to accept, especially something that makes no sense. Like you losing your ma, or me losing my children and my husband. Or Chris losing his family.”

 

He opened his mouth to say something but then, as if the words had made it into his mind, he stopped and looked at her. After at time, he closed his mouth and finally reached for a chair, dropping into it. “Chris knows what happened now. But I think he's even more angry than he was before. If it's not supposed to make sense . . .”

 

She leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table. “The only thing worse than it not making sense is coming to the knowledge that somehow, we caused it. Even if we didn't mean to. If you found out that your ma had died because of something you did, even if you didn't know it at the time, how would you feel?”

 

JD closed his eyes, the look on his face so painful that it took Nettie's breath. It was now, in this moment, that she understood clearly what it was that Casey saw in him. And despite herself, she thought of her own dear man, the one she had lost so long ago. “Think I might want to die, too,” he said, more a breath than a sound.

 

Nettie nodded. “Can't be easy on any of you right now, knowing what this woman has done to Chris, what she tried to do to all of you. I suspect everyone of you wonders the same thing Chris does, though to a lesser degree: how did we let her do that to us? How did we not see what she was doing?”

 

JD sighed. “Vin, Buck, Ezra – they spend all their time trying to figure out where she could have gone. Josiah and Nathan stay with Chris, trying to keep him from doing more harm to himself. And I – I don't know what to do. They're all so different now, so . . . “

 

“So angry,” she said. Without a thought, she leaned on the table and reached out, dropping a hand on his arm, away from his wrists. “You've all lost something – or you're all afraid you're going to. You've been together for almost two years now, and you've become, well, like a family. Chris leaving would have hurt that, but he would have been close by. But having him almost die – and all of you almost dying because of this woman – well, that makes it personal. That's an attack on the family itself.”

 

JD tilted his head, looking off into the distance, as if he were thinking about her words. She waited, letting him think about them, and she was pleased when he asked, “So, will things ever be all right again? Will we – I don't know, I've never had a family, not like you have, not like you're saying the seven of us are, but – well, will we be family again?”

 

She patted his arm then pushed up from her chair, getting to her feet. “Family is family, JD. It never goes away. Sometimes, it goes through hard times, really hard times, but it holds together. Just give the others some time.” She walked back over to the stove, checking again on the food.

 

“What do you think they'll do when they find her?” he asked quietly. “Josiah's been praying about it, and I have too – I don't want them to do something stupid. Vin and Ezra already have trouble with the law, and Buck and Chris – well, I just . . . . Josiah says it's up to them, but he's still praying for them. We talk about it and pray about it, but – well, I don't think God's listening. Josiah says it doesn't matter, that we need to pray anyway.”

 

“That's the best you can do,” she said, moving over to the sideboard to get plates and silverware. “That, and be there to try to talk them out of doing something stupid.” As she set the plates on the table, she said, “That, JD, is the thing family does most.”

 

Before anything else could be said, Casey called from outside, “JD”s horse is here! Where is he?” She came rushing in the door, all sunshine and hurry.

 

Nettie glared at her as she said, “Don't break the eggs or your leg, Casey.”

 

“Here,” JD said, getting to his feet, “let me take that.” He reached for the basket he carried, full of the eggs from the coop.

 

“What's wrong with your arms?” Casey said, staring at his wrists. “Are you all right?”

 

“It's a rash,” JD said, putting the basket down on the sideboard. “I'll be - “

 

“He's got it on his neck, too,” Nettie said. “Casey, why don't you cut another aloe stalk and see if you have more luck than I did getting him to loosen his collar?” She walked back to the cupboard to get some napkins, intentionally not looking at the two young people. She suspected they were blushing but also looking at each other in that way young people in love – or, heat, more like – did. She pulled napkins out of a drawer and closed it loudly, which prompted Casey to answer.

 

“Yes, ma'am – you used the saucer on the table?”

 

“I did,” Nettie answered, turning back to see Casey trotting toward the table, one of her hands caught in JD's. Young love, indeed.

 

Casey grabbed up the saucer and the knife and spoon in one swift movement – and in the one hand, as she still held JD's in the other.

 

“Case,” JD started, though he allowed himself to be pulled along and out the door. Casey chattered on about many things, chores, the hens, the horses – Nettie stopped listening and returned to setting the table, the murmur of their voices a pleasant background to her thoughts about Chris, Vin, and the others.

 

It was hard, for all of them – but also for the town. Mary was upset, and even though she cloaked it under a concern that the town wasn't being fully protected, what with Chris being so desperately hurt and the others being more concerned about this hunt than about anything else, Nettie knew that she was also angry with Chris and the others. Mary was in love with Chris, though it was pretty clear that that love wasn't returned.

 

Vin, for his part – a man who she'd have been proud to call her son. In many ways, he was like the son she'd lost, a boy who had been more like her than like Arthur, a young man who was steady and strong and loved the wildness and beauty of this hard land. In a strange coincidence, one she hadn't shared with Vin, her boy had died of the same fever that had killed Vin's ma. In her own mind, Nettie thought that made her and Vin connected, pieces of a new family.

 

Not that she could tell him much of anything right now. Like the others, he was carrying this anger, the anger that surrounded them all, one that was spreading into the town as well. Inez and Gloria both said that there was more tension, more people getting upset about nothing. Inez said that it was like it was the middle of summer, when the heat was at its worst and tempers flared easily – but it was still months away from that heat.

 

Fear, of course, people were scared. The seven had done such a good job so far of taking care of them. People had seen that in the aftermath of that situation with the marshal. But things with the seven were bad now, and with Vin gone as much as he was, Chris so badly injured and almost dead, the other five were at best terse and short, at worse . . .

 

“Mrs. Wells?”

 

JD's voice startled her; she hadn't noticed that they had come back in.

 

Or he had. She turned to find him standing in the doorway, rolling down his sleeves. His collar was unbuttoned though his shirt was buttoned up except for his top button.

 

“Dinner's almost ready. I'm putting it on the table, so you two wash up.” She turned to the sideboard, pulling out bowls to put the food in.

 

“Yes, ma'am,” he said, “Casey's cutting a few stalks for the aloe for me – I hope that's all right.”

 

“Of course. We have more plants – in fact, you should probably take one or two to Nathan.” She took the lid off the pots, pouring the ingredients into the bowls.

 

“Thank you,” JD said, “for the aloe, but also for talking to me. I. . .” He fell quiet and she glanced over her shoulder. He was looking down and though she couldn't see his eyes, she felt the sadness in him.

 

“You're welcome,” she said, putting down the pot and picking up two of the bowls. She moved to set them on the table, bringing her closer to him. “And I reckon it's time for you to start calling me Nettie. Seeing as you're family and all.”

 

He looked up at her, his eyes once more wide and surprised. Then, he smiled. “Nettie,” he said, saying it slow, as if the word were strange to him.

 

“JD!” Casey called from outside and he turned, starting back out the door. But he stopped and turned back one more time.

 

“Thanks for talking to me. I – well, I haven't had anyone talk to me the way you did, not since, well, not since my ma . . .” He trailed off again.

 

“JD!” Casey called again, louder.

 

Nettie nodded to him. “Quicker you get cleaned up, quicker we can eat. Don't wash that aloe off your wrists, don't waste it.” But she let herself smile just a little.

 

He nodded and turned away. “I'm coming!” he called back. “Can't a man have a minute to be thankful?”

 

Nettie smiled even bigger then, dishing up the rest of the dinner and setting it on the table. As she put out glasses, she thought about what she'd said to him. Family. Seemed like he was. It could work against the anger, though it would take a while.

 

It was working for her now, burning off the fury that she felt at Chris and turning it into a softer worry. A worry for him, for Vin, and for them all.

 

She pulled out the traveling bowls so that they'd be ready to fill with whatever was left over from dinner. Because no matter how angry she was at Chris, she'd do whatever she could to take care of him, and all of them. That was what family did.

 


End file.
